Stubborn problems always require a shift in paradigm.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos was nothing if not stubborn, and he refused to let this transformation keep him down. With no specific deadline to look forward to, he felt that he had no choice but to train, until he regained, even in this body, at least a modicum of skill at what he usually did best: fighting. It didn't help that the breeches he'd secured for himself in this form were a lot tighter than anything he was used to, but he was learning to move about in them well enough.

Much more troubling by far was the weight of his broadsword. The Schiavona was much too heavy for his current strength, but it was all he had to practice, and so he found himself outside in the gardens, going through the basic motions of swordfighting as if he were only getting to know it, hoping that repetition would help. But in this body, not only was his sword too heavy, but his balance was off, and even his very style was wrong for someone who could no longer fight like a force of nature.

Fifteen minutes into his exercises already found his oversized shirt sticking to his back with sweat, and after stumbling through yet another move that should've been easy, he pulled off the kerchief he wore over his hair and threw it aside in a show of temper, planting his sword down in the soft damp soil and looking about as frustrated with himself as a not-a-lady Musketeer could get.

Which was, apparently, a lot.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

"If you say so," Porthos replies, feeling awkward in the new stance but honestly willing to try anything. He reaches for his blade and raises it again, grim determination on his features, no matter how tired his arm is. Pushing through tiredness is nothing, to a Musketeer.

[averygoodshot]

It's reassuring too. And while Aramis may not clap Porthos on the back like he normally would, he does smile more easily. "Have you too gotten used to how salty everything is?"

[praiseandglory]

He breaks into one of his typical grins, then. "I just drink all the more wine." It's not so much that he's gotten used to it, more that he will gladly embrace that particular consequence. Make the most of that oddity.

[averygoodshot]

Aramis can hardly argue with that logic. He does though notice that there is much more water drunk here. It must be safe, though he is in no hurry to find out. "Are there many here who have been trapped for ages?" For the few days he's been here, he's met very few people.

[praiseandglory]

"I'm not rightly sure," Porthos admits as they fall in stride. If a census was ever done, he isn't aware of it. "But I don't think so. A lot of people seem to come and go?"

[averygoodshot]

"Except us," replies Aramis dryly. "Aren't we the lucky ones?" He runs a hand over his hair, then settles his hat down over his head. His cuts are healing and he's glad of it.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is still studying Porthos with some disapproval, reaching down to pluck out his main gauche to extend the small, shorter knife out to Porthos, thinking this will be a more suitable weapon for the time being. "Put the large blade down," he instructs. "You'll topple over, I fear, if you try and use it."

[praiseandglory]

"I would not," Porthos grumbles, eyes flashing at the thought, but he has to admit that fighting with something lighter than his broadsword would be welcome. So he walks to the tree where's he's left the bottle of wine and leans the Schiavona there, then comes back to Athos, still scowling. Topple over!

Now, fighting with a dagger won't help his already shorter allonge, but he's always prided himself on being able to fight with anything. Not a problem.

No, the problem isn't the weapon, but he shifts back into a fighting stance, raising the dagger defiantly between him and his friend.

[praiseandglory]

"At least we get bed and board," Porthos remarks with a half smile. "Could be much worse."

Yes, he'll happily focus on the good. Focusing on the bad when they can't do anything about it is a recipe for madness, and he doesn't fancy losing his marbles.

[averygoodshot]

True words, those, and Aramis toasts to that, taking a long swallow of the wine. "And where do you go to play cards?" Because of course Porthos gambles. Nlt everything had to change.

[praiseandglory]

"Where do I ever go to play cards?" Porthos replies with a toothy grin. The tavern, of course, only this 'Smoking Room' is nothing like the taverns back home. A lot less raucous, for one thing.

[armedagainstlove]

Porthos has always been adamant about wanting to succeed and to never give up, but Athos worries that in his current state, he might actually cause harm to himself or his environment. Still, at least he takes the dagger, though he seems to want to prove himself with it. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Athos asks, not unhooking the clasp of his sword belt just yet.

[averygoodshot]

"And do the men you play against underestimate you in this form?" Aramis asks, amused. "Do they think that a woman cannot play the cardsharp?"

[praiseandglory]

"Of course I'm sure," Porthos frowns, without shifting his stance. He needs to learn to fight in this body, and that is that. He trusts Athos not to kill him; his friend is probably the best teacher he could hope for, honestly. So he grows solemn, for a second, and simply says, quiet and intense, "Please."

[praiseandglory]

"To be fair, men underestimate me at cards even when I don't look like a woman," Porthos replies with another grin, a quick one, because it's good to be underestimated. "If anything, they're less likely to grow violent when I take their money, I've found."

It's probably a good thing, even if instinctively, he wouldn't say that it is. He likes violence too much.

[averygoodshot]

They both do. Aramis just likes it in women a bit more.

"Their downfall," he acknowledges with a grin. "Though we know now that if they do try to assault your person, you can assault them back."

[armedagainstlove]

Never one to wish to cause consternation amidst his friends, Athos knows that Porthos will not relent until he gives in to the request. He finally draws his sword and settles into the comfortable stance that has allowed his mind to drift away from troubles, these past few years.

"You set the pace," he allows, thinking that will keep them on even ground and indicate to Athos how aggressive he should charge forward.

[praiseandglory]

That's fine by Porthos. He shifts his focus between his balance and the clash of blade against blade, and he's very aware of exactly how easy Athos is going on him. He's aware of way too many things, in the end - how short his blade is, how tentative his footwork is, how off balance he feels - and not just because of his different centre of gravity. He's thinking so much that he can't get into the spar the way he normally would, and the result is really not worthy of a Musketeer. Frustration grows inside him, and that of course hardly helps.

"This is pointless," he grunts after a while, scowling - at himself rather than his friend. "I'm useless like this."

[praiseandglory]

"Well, now I could properly assault them back," Porthos happily corrects that statement, because there's very little doubt that had such a thing happened, he would have assaulted them back regardless of how likely he was to succeed.

[averygoodshot]

"Here, here," Aramis says, raising his glass to that with a grin.

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is not being overly challenged, but he endeavours to look as though he is, aware that Porthos will not take it well if Athos doesn't at least offer a touch of resistance and show difficulty. Even this, however, cannot do the job. He sighs when Porthos lambasts himself and unclips his sword belt, the musket and pistol going soon after. "You're being too hard on yourself," he counters.

"I'm sure you've still the advantage in hand to hand," he says, bracing himself for what comes next. "Come on, let's try and see."

[praiseandglory]

"That's not funny," Porthos pointedly tells Athos, now very much scowling at him. Of course he wouldn't have the advantage now, in this lighter, weaker body. He wouldn't even know how to start brawling.

But he's not one to back down from a challenge, of course, so he sets the dagger down and unbuckles his scabbard. He's going to find out how to fight in this body if it kills him, although he's still hoping that it won't come to that.

Lighter, weaker body or not, he turns around and charges Athos without an instant's hesitation, hoping to surprise him and manage to throw him to the ground. He knows one thing; he has no chance in a prolonged fight.

[armedagainstlove]

Porthos may not see the truth of the matter, but Athos does not have half as many doubts. He knows all too well what Porthos is capable of, no matter the form. In fact, it begins quickly, given how off guard Athos has been when Porthos comes charging at him, stumbling back and falling to the ground hard, wincing as he shifts.

"You see?" True, that had mainly been surprise, but it had still caught him off his guard.

[praiseandglory]

"That was you being terrible," Porthos points out gruffly, although he can't deny the satisfaction at having been able to put Athos down, no matter the reason.

He holds a (bare) hand out to help Athos back to his feet. He half expects his friend to get him back by using that to try and unbalance him, though, mostly because it's what he would do, so he's ready for that.

[armedagainstlove]

"I've never been skilled with hand to hand," Athos says truthfully, brushing the dust from his arse as he sits up, reaching out to take Porthos' hand to help himself back to his feet. He manages to get steady again, giving Porthos an expectant look. "You can show me again, if that's what you'd like."